The Noise of Thunder
by JBSlarti
Summary: She needed to live in the moment instead of in the past – in the heat of the sun on her face, the breeze across her skin, even the sweetrotten smell in that breeze.


_Title: The Noise of Thunder  
Fandom/character: Dawn of the Dead (2004), Ana  
Prompt: No. 54 – Air  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: This is one of the first installments in a 100-story challenge from Live Journal. Much like my old college creative writing class, we are given 100 words and a topic and free reign to riff on them. Some of these stories will follow the movie canon, some won't; some will be long, some short; some may even follow in sequence. Ratings, timelines, tone will vary. They all will focus on Ana and the people around her._

* * *

When the bickering inside got to be too much for her, Ana would go to the roof.

During her first few days at the mall, she couldn't understand why the others liked to congregate up there. Sure, there was Andy to talk to, but there was also the teeming mass of former humanity just two stories down. The clamoring and screaming of those… things and their constant pounding made the skin crawl up her neck. And let's not even think about the smell, which grew thicker every day.

But, as the days wore on, those things bothered her less. She wasn't really happy about that, not happy at all in fact. She thought she should be more outraged when the guys played Hollywood Squares, shooting the dead celebrity look-alikes in the crowd below. But, as much as she hated to admit it, Steve was right on that count. A bullet to the head was better than existing in that nightmare state. And, at least her growing apathy against those monsters did make it easier for her to spend time outside.

She pulled the blue beach chair far enough back from the edge to block out the sight below, and plopped into it with a sigh. Leaning back, she turned her attention to the sky.

So clear, blue and empty, the sky stretched out above her, vacant of even the smallest cloud. It had been that way for days now. No birds, no clouds, certainly no planes or contrails marred its vastness.

She wondered idly if there would ever again be planes in the sky, then dismissed the thought as excessively morbid. She closed her eyes, letting the sun bake into her skin, and remembered her last ride on a plane. It had been her honeymoon.

Luis, despite his bravado, hated flying. He hated to be out of control, and nothing said helpless more than being stuck inside a sealed tin can thousands of feet in the air. He had squeezed her hand tight during take off, and had laughed it off as a comfort for her.

Remembering Luis still produced a dull, bittersweet ache in her chest, but she was learning to live with it. She needed to live in the moment instead of in the past – in the heat of the sun on her face, the breeze across her skin, even the sweet-rotten smell in that breeze. Those things were her reality now. Living in the past could only get her killed.

Living in the moment could also allow her a modicum of happiness in this terrible new world. Window shopping with Monica, reading old magazines and new books, learning a few keys on the organ from Glenn, these small things made her happy. More and more, however, what made her happiest was spending time with Michael.

Part of her still worried about that. She had never been seriously attracted to another man since meeting Luis in college all those years ago. Luis was dead now, and the world was not the same, but shouldn't she be mourning him instead of noticing the dimple in Michael's left cheek? Instead of talking to him for hours about nothing, shouldn't she be scouring the masses below for Luis? With one shot, she could have Andy end the unnatural existence of her husband's corpse.

No. If she started down that path she feared she would never stop. She would then search for Vivian, Mrs. DeFeo next door, Cora, her parents. It was better to let them go -- let them go so she could enjoy the clear sky.

She studied the emptiness for a moment then yawned and closed her eyes again. The next time Steve pissed her off, she thought, she would drag Michael up here with her. She imagined him in the chair beside her, his long legs stretched out, his tawny hair tangling in the breeze. She smiled to herself, and came to a decision. If she was going to live in the moment, she'd better damn well start.

Checking her watch, she realized it was almost time for dinner. Tonight was Steve's turn to cook, and, surprise, surprise, that was what he had been bitching about earlier. Scanning the horizon, she automatically focused on Andy's and squinted.

He was on his roof, that much she could tell. She stood up and found one of the pairs of binoculars littering the roof. Focusing them, she almost laughed out loud. He was looking right back at her, waving and with a big grin. Quickly, he dropped the binoculars and started scribbling on his white board.

"Beautiful day, huh?" It said. He even spelled 'beautiful' right. She gave him a thumbs-up and he started scribbling again. "Done napping? Want to shoot Tom Cruise!"

This time she did laugh out loud, putting down the binoculars and giving a double thumbs-up. The crack of his rifle echoed between the buildings and Ana turned to head for the door. She resolved herself to go find Michael. In this new world, all she had was to live for today.


End file.
